Breaking My Fall
by Conquerer Worm
Summary: The tale of Saturos and Menardi- Woven from the threads of their existance- adolescence to their very deaths. A romance story that breaks the ice. (PG for violence)
1. Beginning Of The NeverEnding

Hello all, my name is Hannah, and I'm sneaking in from the G Gundam section. Shh! Don't tell! XP This is the prologue to a big story I am now taking on. It is the tale of Saturos and Menardi- from the time of their death to their very childhood. This story should be quite different then most, so be expecting something, well, different then normal. Actually, this is quite short- but then again, most prologues are. Please enjoy my first stab at GS! *is abducted by some aliens*

***

We fell so slowly... But as our bodies finally smacked against the cold, stone floor, the world seemed to be ablur. My eyes fluttered open, which sent tears sprawling out of my squinting red eyes. We had lost, and I was in so much pain...

"Menardi!" A usually calm and collected voice screamed, greatly pained by something. My head rolled to the side to see Saturos, my companion, spread across the floor across from me. I couldn't even move my face into the shocked expression that I wanted to express. A reddish water was puddled near his legs, and his hair... oh, his hair looked sticky and strawlike, also covered in blotches of the blood. It had fallen over his eyes, because his intricately sown headband and been torn off his now pale, blue skin. I squeezed my eyes tightly and furrowed my brow.

"Saturos!" I screamed. With much effort, I rolled a couple of feet toward him. Using his scraped elbows, he drug himself along. He had an outstretched hand, and his eyes shone in the bright light of the giant golden sphere above us. Lightening crackled from the stormy black and red sky, yet our hope still dwindled.

But it was suddenly shot down.

In a raucous of rumbling and tearing stone, the earth split apart the lighthouse. I was suddenly thrown into a fit of rolling, and I began to sob as my body was abused. It caused the hard, horn-like bumps on my shoulders to tear off, causing a bluish fluid to spill from my flesh. It revealed muscle, which was pulsing. I couldn't handle it any longer.

In a huge thrust, I sent myself rolling in the opposite direction the wind was blowing. But before I could do a thing, the wind pushed me with such a force, I was suddenly falling off the edge- my hand raced up to the edge, fingers gripping the cold concrete. I looked down to see the longest fall I could dream of. There was a huge stretch of darkness, leading to the bottom floor- which was set ablaze. The light at the end of the tunnel- my doom. I exhaled deeply and lifted my pinky fingers. Then my ring fingers, one holding a golden treasure of my past wrapped about it. Then middle- I couldn't get past those two, because I slipped at that moment. 

"No!" A voice screeched above me. I was then sent flying down. I whirled about until my face was pointing down and my torn dress flapping about wildly. My eyes were shut tight as the air screeched past my ears. I was going to die.

A sudden force squeezed around my back and my arms, coming together at my chest. I could not open my eyes to see who was holding me so tightly, but in a moment it became clear. A wet hand was brought to my forehead, and it felt along my skin. The tips of the fingers were calloused yet strong, dragging a sticky liquid across my pinkish skin. Under the loud noise of my skirt flapping in the wind- which was like a white flag, showing our surrender to life- I heard a voice whisper into my long ears.

"Menardi," His velvety voice seemed to calm the whipping winds sending us to our death. He forced his hand down to my cheek, caressing it, just so tenderly. "You're warm," A reddish tear fell upward to his hand from my eyes. I squinted my eyes just slightly to see how far we were from the first floor. We were about four floors from the bottom.

"We're about to die," I whispered hoarsly. "And that's all you can say?" I questioned solemnly.

"I guess that's all I can think about," He said with a deep sadness weighing down on him.

"I lo-" I started. I was fighting with myself. "I love you Saturos," I had broken out of my shell, finally, after years of darkness. At the very end of my life.

"I've been waiting for you to say that," Saturos breathed into my ear. "I-" He was struggling, too. "I love you too," At that moment, Saturos switched positions with me, so my face was burrowed in his armored chest, and he was facing the floor.

"What are you doing?" I asked him quickly, frightened of what was going on.

"Why," he whispered, "I'm breaking your fall."

***

;-; That was so difficult for me to write. Usually it takes me 45 minutes to wite a three paged fic, and this was just a teeny bit over one page- and it's taken me so long... But this was sad… wow… angst/love- it's a great combo. Please tell me what you think. And if it seems OOC, good! They were, because I thought that they would act differently when they were dying. Go ahead and flame if you don't like Sat/Men, I really don't mind. As I first said, this is my first GS fic, so I'm not as used to the characters like I usually am. But please reply! I will update ASAP, okay?

--Sailor Hannah


	2. Foundations

Hello again! You thought Iwas dead, didn't you! Well, you were correct. I was unispired and feeling all… Blehish. But now, give special thanks to the fuelers to this chappie- The ROTK CD, hours of reading The princess Bride, and writing a WHOLE lot of descriptions of Furcadia. XD

Legolas: And you sure have been on there A LOT.

Hannah: …

…

…

Just read it. XD

***

The Kingdom of Prox- the Firey Empire laced with gold and beauty. All who lived in Prox where often joyful and carefree, jubilant in their wealth and glory. There was no poor man; the nobles would ride into town on their gallant white steeds, tossing gold to the lesser, peasant-like community in the valley below. Every new born was blessed with holy water, and the old given draught to stretch out their glorious days. And never did the Proxians grow tired of their perfect lives; each had a job of which they freely chose. Most were artisans; making statues of the gods, nobles, even other workers.Then there were weavers; who traded with the far, far away land of Xian, for silk that would heal at the touch. Also popular were the jewel-makers and weapon forgers- of which, the weapons that were made were only used for showing off- there was no war in Prox. Even the shoe makers had their high place; everyone in the town had a pair of knee-highs, no matter the color. 

Prox lay in the mountain-ridden land of the North; but they had fields and oceans of grass, wheat, and even rye for making the best quality ale. It was as if the gods had laid a finger down and smoothed out the land perfectly, with the mountains shielding Prox from attacks, yet leaving land to farm and to build a bustling city, not to mention the enormous citadel. The place was as vast as it was grand; and it was very grand indeed. Every morning, the sun flooded the streets, the small brooks were always a-babble, and the clopping of hooves can be heard in the early hours of the day. Now, the streets were not gold and the buildings not of emerald; but all houses were white washed, and had their own garden and cobblestone path. It was filled with life each day, greeting one's neighbors, washing the dirty plates, and playing with the cat who belonged to just about everyone on the street.

But, enough about the city.

The palace was a firey red, made of some of the hardest stone in all of Weyard, as were the ambitions of the King. The King of Prox was known as "The King" to all of his followers, even his dearest friends. He preferred it; it made him feel important. He was strong yet stout- a bit pig-nosed, if you will, but a kind soul. He was never very greedy, for he had all that he wanted- an entire kingdom in his plump fingers. He smiled and rode into town unescorted, catching up on gossip in a near-by tavern. No one could hate the fellow.

His wife, Marna, was far more important in this kingdom. Now, in most kindoms over Weyard, a woman would never have the chance for rule over a man. But this tall and fair woman was gentle to her people, and fierce toward any perspiring conquerers. She wore only one, simple white dress, yet her lovely figure was undhidden. But men respected a woman like that, and did not look at her, but her eyes instead. She had the power to flip the kingdom onto it's back and slice open it's underbelly for all the worth it's got; but she dares not. She loves her people and would never betray them.

Their only daughter was the fairest yet shyest of all in the kingdom. She looked thin and a little pale, but that was how every girl wished to look. Golden locks cascaded over her breast, and she had eyes that were murky and blue. Oh, but no one got to see this high cheek boned, curved, beautiful face: she lived in her room at all time. Her only chance of seeing others would be through her tiny window that was above her bed. Sometimes travelers would see her and cry out, 'Alas, alas! A lass at last!', and all would come to see the trapped figure. But she was no longer there. Just hiding in the back, wrapped up in self-pity; something that kept her cold no matter how much she was 

covered.

But our story does not start here, either.

But through the young eyes of a tavern worker, one whom is weary and ready for rest.

"Missy," a man hiccuped as he leaned back on his chair, plopping his boots on the table. The girl smiled and looked up.

"Yes? And what would you like?" She said a with a grin. She put a misplaced blonde hair behind her ear.

"Missy, missy…" The man droned on, giggling blissfully as he drifted off to sleep. The girl rolled her eyes and sat back down at her normal spot on the opposite side of the bar. She sagged and yawned. There was never anything exciting at THIS tavern. Oh yes, across the the street, at the Broken Sword Inn, but no one would ever visit the dreary place she called home.

"The Lightouse Tavern," She recited in a dull tongue. "…Is a place where everything is about satisfaction, Oh, and about some good ale." She sighed. All we ever go here were a couple of very old men, or drunk young ones. And they were never very good looking. She smirked as a thought came to mind. She sat up and reached across the bar, her fingers grabbing the brim of the hat the sleeping man was wearing. She pulled it up slowly, as not to wake him.

No luck. 

Another scar-face. When was she ever going to settle down, so she could live like everyone else? Being able to greet your neighbors? Washing the dishes? (Actually, she already does that.) Having a pet cat! Oh, she would name him something like, 'Sir Nero' or 'Knight Agatio' or even 'Mister Fluffawilkens'? She grinned at the thought of her own cat. Or her own house. 

Or her own husband.

A small smile played on the corner of her mouth. Such dreams would be reached later in life, she had plenty of time before anything would come her way. She was to work in her father's tavern until she was about 250, a meager age for anyone in Weyard.

Now, life in Weyard was bountiful and over flowing- everything had a seemingly eternal life. Or at least, most critters lived to be anywhere between 10 to 35 hundred years. Yes, life was long, but filled with excitement. Every 100 years, there would be a celebration among the small town, or street. The elemantals where balanced.

Just then, as the girl was cleaning out a seemingly perfectly clean mug with an old rag, her father made his way down the stairs. Flop, flop, flop, was what noise echoed as he clumsily plopped his large shoes down the polished steps. She grinned and turned to meet him.

"Good morning, father," the girl politley bowed her head.

"Good morning, Menardi," he said with a simple nod. Her mother had picked out that name for her ages ago, being ready to name her child something as graceful as she was to become. When the girl was born, there was no terrible celebration like the town normally throws; no one really seemed to notice that Menardi was ever conceived.

"Good morning, Miss Harshaw. Oh, what is that cloth your carrying around?A baby? Who's is it?" Was the response that her mother received from the neighbors. Her mother never got mad; she was just happy she had a child at all. Oh, and of course, when Menardi's sister was born, Karst, it stirred up a huge commotion.

"Oh, look at how beautiful she looks, and at such a small age!" The others would say about Karst. 

"What beautiful hair! What color is that? A magenta?"

"Can she work at my tavern, of course, when she is older?" Came a booming voice of an older man with a grin on his face- Mister Garon from the Broken Sword Inn. And, that was what happened. Karst left her own father's bar to work at his main competition. And tht attracted such a crowd. And that is how the famliy lost her.

"Any customers?" Mister Harshaw yawned, stretching in his gown like nightclothes. Menardi smirked and pointed the the sleeping man. He frowned and sighed as he sat at one of the tables. Hie groaned and lifted his dripping arms out of a pool of beer that remained on the table. "Could you clean this up?" He would have normally asked. But he just sighed and stood.

"Menardi," his father said in a serious tone. She looked up from the mug she was cleaning.

"Yes, dadda?" She said sweetly. His face looked troubled.

"I need to close the tavern," He said finally. Dismay crept over her and stroke her a hard blow.

"Wha-What?? I mean, sure, we don't get too many customers, but we get enough! I… we… this is our home! We can't close!" She hook her head. There was no way…

"Menardi, I know you are dissapointed, but we simply don't make enough. You can go work at the Broken Sword, and I'll get some more gold from the nobles when they pass by. This tavern is ruining our reputation!" He cried. Literally. He didn't want to close up, really, but he can see their neighors scoff when he says he's off to 'work', no one liked the ale, nothing was good anymore.

"But … daddy!" Menardi cried as she ran to her father and they wept with each other. 

"But," he continued. "We can wait a while before closing. Maybe a week or two… or three… or.. I don't know!" He cried out. They both just sat for a long time, in a saddened, and loving, embrace. But their tears dried and they went nack to 'work'. Menardi and her mug; father and his supervising. They eached sniffled, but went on with life.

And life was back to normal for a week or two. Only a few customers. 

Until one cold and stormy night.

Well, actually, it was a warm and sunny, and it was mid-day, but having a cold and stormy night usually means something important was about to happen.

And something DID happen.

A stranger wandered into the bar, cloaked and hooded, no vivble skin shown. He sat in the back and smiled.

There's going to be a lot of changing around here, the man thought as he looked around…

***

Well!! That was nice. ._.;;

Legolas: Well if THAT wasn't boring.

Hannah: *Shrugs* Yeah, it was. But I had to lay out the fundamentals before layin on some hard core angstyness, fighting, violence, romance, and STUFF. Oh, and if you thought this chappie was a tad silly, blame the Princess Bride. I love that book to DEATH. Yay. (Is happy and listens to "Return Of The King" "The End Of It All" and "Into the West") =^-^=

Announcer guy: Herm. Well, please tune in whenever Hannah updates. Oh, and if you want an update, review. Yes. Oh, now I'M the bad guy, making you write a TWO WORD sentence for an update. Pity. Meow.

--Sailor Hannah (Conquerer Worm)


	3. Hiding

Hey!!! Thanks everyone! Wow!

Legolas: That means thanks for the reviews. =3

Hannah: Yay! And a special thanks to a certain reviewer who helped me get off my lazy butt to spellcheck the last chappie. :P Okay! So…. Here's the chappie where… STUFF HAPPENS!! OH MY GOD!! IT'S SO AMAZING- STUFF! XD

Legolas: She's having a good day. OH NO.

Hannah: Please do the disclaimer! :D

Legolas ._.;; Okay… Hannah does not own Golden Sun or Me. =3

Hannah: Yay! Thanks for coming here, please enjoy!

***

Menardi hummed a lovely tune; it was fast and and glorified through her voice.

"Hmm-hmm-hmm," She started as she sat with her eyes closed, bored. She was leaning up against the bar, her dress rumpled and looking sluggish.

A deep voice off in the corner finished the tune. Menardi opened her eyes, startled.

"Ye-yes? What can I get you?" she said, blushing terribly. She looked as the hooded figure make his way, slowly, slowly, toward the bar. Step. Step. Step. He stopped for a moment, and his head moved up and down as he studied her. Menardi looked down at the bar and tapped the surface nervously. He drew nearer, and finally, sat across from her. The hood on his face shaded all but his lips, which were drawn into a small smile. And he sat for some time.

Menardi nervously pulled a mug out from under the bar.

"Would you like a drink, Sir?" she said as she placed the large glass in front of her. And he sat.

"Yes," he finally announced, lips forming a smile. His lips were so clear and glossy… and his smile…! Menardi smiled and grabbed the mug, and slowly got up to fill it with a fine ale. 

Feeling a tad braver now, Menardi asked, "So… What brings you here?" The ale was reaching the top, bubbling and fizzling in the murky brown drink. 

No answer.

"Sir…?" Menardi asked and turned around. He wasn't there. She turned her head in search, her eyes meeting his brown cloaked mass. He was looking at one of the old, dirty paintings on the wall. Menardi placed the glass on the counter and maneuvered toward him, trying to see what he was doing. She was very curious about this fellow…

It was a painting of the old lighthouse. It was glorious; polished in red stone, with grand statues adorning it. The statues were of great dragons, golden and fierce- the insignia of Prox. At the top of the lighthouse was a fuzzy marking of red; a blur. As if the painter could not display exactly WHAT was there. It was the light; an indescribable beauty and the source of power some supposedly had. Of course, the civilians did not have this great power; they didn't want to be troubled with it. But the king on the other hand… had mastered it. Many said that they had seen him conjure a very flame into his hand!

And so, the man stared and smiled.

"What is it, Sir? It's just the lighthouse," Menardi warily announced. He chuckled in a deep, velvety voice.

"Just the lighthouse?" He turned to her. "Menardi, I'm surprised at you!"

"Wha-?" She managed to say. How did this man know her name??

The man suddenly turned around, looking toward our large window.

At that moment, the man grabbed her and suddenly dropped to the floor, scooting under a nearby table. He cradled her back and covered her mouth. Menardi struggled and tried to shout, but to no avail. The man squeezed harder.

"Shush!" He hissed. He collected all of her, grabbing her feet and pulling them so that they were not visible. Menardi continued to struggle. He squeezed her harder. 

Just then, the doors to the tavern swung open, and three pairs of feet walked in. (Well, three people; Menardi was under a table, so only their feet were visible.) Two in clobbering and noisy knight's boots, metal and black in the dim light. The other was in brown slipper-shoes, soft and quick. Most likely a doeskin. They stepped further into the bar.

"Hello," a rich, extravagant voice announced. "I need to see the owner of the… Lighthouse Tavern," he almost chuckled.

Menardi struggled more and almost kicked one of the chairs. The character gripped her, and his legs wrapped about hers, stopping her from any movement. She kept trying to scream to the newcomer for help, but the man had stuck his hand in her mouth. She clamped down furiously on his hand. He winced but shrugged it off.

"Please," the man in the slippers called out. "I need to see you immediately," The man was grinning. "I'll count to five, and if you aren't out, I'll have the king come down here himself," 

With that, Menardi thought her father would surely come out. But then it struck her- he was out, buying some tasty, fresh bread from the baker.

"Alright," he said. "We now have the right to search the place," 

He whispered to the two knights, and off they clanked to the stairs. But he remained there.

"Come now," He said in a prodding voice. "I know you're in here somewhere!"

Menardi was frightened and confused, and she wanted to just rip out of the man's grip. She struggled again.

The man's breath came in quiet pants. A sudden sweat rained down onto Menardi's head, and she knew he was exceedingly nervous about the man just a few yards away from them.

The two feet moved steadily about the room, stopping to gaze over the counter, and then, he started looking under the tables.

The man's breath was getting faster. Menardi could feel his heartbeat as she was crushed against his chest. But it was a false alarm- the two shoes stopped going about and the man quickly retired. 

"I'm coming back later tonight," he warned. "You better be ready," the shoes stormed over to the stairs.

"Moskove! Lebre! Get down here," he growled. After a loud clinking down the stairs, the other feet appeared.

"Sir," One voice said nervously. "We found no one,"

"Well, we're coming back tonight." The man said, angered. He then whispered something.

"Sir, why would we need torch- ohhh," another voice said. They all retreated out of the tavern, slamming the doors behind them.

After several more minutes, the man (while still clutching Menardi) slowly got out from under the table. He crawled to the window and looked out. The sun was getting low. He pulled his hand from Menardi's mouth, and released his grip. She fell to the floor.

Menardi panted heavily, trying to get as much air as possible. Who was this …beast? Who trapped her so, had almost suffocated her??

The man sulked against the hard wall. He dropped himself to the ground, and sighed.

"Wh-who," Menardi got out between pants. She couldn't say more.

The man reached for his head and pulled down his hood. He smiled lightly and closed his eyes. Blue locks tumbled about his face.

Menardi crawled up to his face, examining it with shock. She fell into his lap, resting her head, and wrapped her arms about him. 

"Saturos," she whispered, a smile on her lips.

***

Whoot! *Goes starry-eyed* Yaaay! This will be my longest story ever! Whee! *hugs Saturos+Menardi heart shaped plushie!*

Legolas: ;; Wow. Too hyper…

Hannah: Okay, now time to thank each reviewer! Whoo! Thanks again, you guys!

Ratqueen- Thanks!! You're my first reviewer, props to you. XD

q2004 - Wow... I'm so glad you liked the angst/love. I'll be adding so much in this story... aww... Thanks!

Lan3- You're crazy, Kaycee! X)

Rai Dorain- You're review helped me OODLES. Thanks, and I'm sorry I got grumpy! I just was mad at myself. ( Thanks again!

bladegryphon- Whoo! Bash Leggy! Yay!

Legolas: I heard that.

Hannah: Thanks! ^^;;

Shadow-Dragon5- WOW!! JUST- WOW! You started the craze of Proxshipping! I love you! XD *glomps* Thanks so much... I'm honored taht you read my fic! *prances off to check your site. x3

***

Thanks for reading, please review! :{ )

--Sailor Hannah (Conquerer Worm)


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